


Don't Peek

by summerstorm



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Character Study, Character of Color, F/F, First Time, Nipple Play, No Dialogue, Porn Battle, Power Imbalance, Pre-Canon, Secret Relationship, Swimming Pool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They set out on the very, very mutual basis of knowing exactly how much they mean to each other, down under Emily's intermittent and overwhelming self-denial and Ali being always the one who reaches out and gives and encourages Emily to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Peek

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompts 'secrets' and 'keeping quiet.'

They set out on the very, very mutual basis of knowing exactly how much they mean to each other, down under Emily's intermittent and overwhelming self-denial and Ali being always the one who reaches out and gives and encourages Emily to take. They set out on the mutual knowledge that it's all a game for Ali, fun and meaningless and, in a sort of twisted way, partly, fractionally meant to help Emily work through her doubts; and that Emily couldn't be more involved if she tried. It runs deep, like only a stupidly serious crush on your best friend can — deep and embarrassing and more intense than Emily feels comfortable with.

She's so obvious. Ali has a habit of mocking her, half good-natured, half mean girl, in this subtly pointed way that, while making Emily incredibly uncomfortable, leaves no room for Emily to believe Ali is ever going to pretend Emily's any less into — into girls, into _her_, than Ali knows her to be.

So it's balanced, in a way — Emily engages willingly in Ali's games, and she knows that, knows she can't really blame Alison for the toll they take on her. It just doesn't feel all that balanced, sometimes. Emily's in — Emily has a stupid, ridiculous _real_ crush on her best friend, and Ali gets to test it out, try it on like she's out shopping. Ali gives her breadcrumbs, and has her fun, and moves on as it strikes her fancy.

Emily never stops wanting more. Emily doesn't get to stop wanting her.

It's a kind of balance, just one that's not really balanced at all. It already hurts more than Emily wishes she were willing to put up with, and she knows, she _knows_ it should stop. She knows she should hold Ali off before this whole thing breaks her. Because Ali doesn't _want_, it doesn't consume her the way it does Emily, and Emily hates it. She hates how she always gives in — she hates that she wants so much — she hates all of it.

After all, that constant, unstoppable want is the only reason she takes Ali's breadcrumbs.

The breadcrumbs are the worst part.

Emily can put up with the teasing, the thinly veiled statements of Emily's — of the way Emily sometimes feels about — _girls_ — about Alison. When they're not alone, Emily can ignore Hanna's inspective glances, Spencer's silent decision to stay out of it, the way Aria pretends she's not suspicious. If Ali's trying on a pair of Spencer's dress shorts and tells Emily, specifically Emily, "Don't peek," Emily can laugh it off. If they're watching a movie and Ali squeezes in close to her, thighs lining up, knocking their knees, Emily can stare at the TV set, pretend her breath hasn't caught in her throat. And if Alison wants to push harder, grab Emily's hand and smile slyly as she drags it over her own knee, Emily can take it back as soon as Ali's grip vanishes, tug down the hem of her shirt — duck her head — and hope nobody saw her blushing.

It's when they're alone and Ali knows Emily doesn't feel strongly enough like she shouldn't go along with Ali's overtures that it gets complicated.

Or simple — simple in the way Emily knows something not entirely platonic or innocent is going to be offered her, and nobody but Ali is going to know she took it, and it's not going to be even remotely enough.

And simple, too, because Emily knows what Ali's doing. Emily knows Ali's working through a shifting list of first times.

Maybe, Emily thinks sometimes, maybe this is not how her first kisses, first experiences should go down — they could, should mean something to someone other than herself, have a better mutuality than just the kind where you don't kid yourself. The thing is, she's too into Ali to care, and at the same time, she figures — if she's never — if she's never going to _have_ Ali — and it's okay that she's not, not a self-loathing thing at all, because nobody can have Ali, Ali's just not wired to give herself to anyone — if it's a lost cause, being really wanted in return, then it's better to get through all the awkward stages with her, in a situation where she can't ruin anything, can't scare Ali away because Ali will always shock her first.

Ali's always the one who takes them one step further.

Ali sleeps over, and Emily gets a goodnight kiss on the corner of her lips, too deliberately slow to be an accident, and lets Ali's mouth slide over hers, unusually gentle and quiet, but holding back a self-congratulatory smirk.

They go see a movie when everybody else has other plans, and Emily takes the hand Ali's got open on the armrest, facing upwards and slightly toward Emily's side, carefully set to be held.

Ali makes up excuses so Emily's the last one to leave her house when the five of them have lunch there, and she lies down on her couch and pulls Emily down over her. She rests a hand on the small of her back while they kiss until Emily's too gone to complain when Ali bites her lip and her hand slides lower.

More than once, Ali convinces her to slip down to Spencer's pool for a late-night swim while the other girls are sleeping, or to sneak into the one at school when it's closed. They do laps until Ali gets bored — or Ali times it to tire Emily down, wear down her already paper-thin stoicity — and pins Emily to a wall with her entire body, making sure Emily feels the shape of her breasts, the stiff peaks of her nipples through their cooling bikini tops, leaning into kisses she doesn't release until Emily reaches for them.

Emily never expects any of it, not until it happens, not until Ali gives it to her. It's a surprise when Ali gets into her bed one night in just her underwear and presses Emily's palm flat against her stomach, fingertips pushing at the waistband, never lower — just enough for Emily to find herself shifting uncomfortably and put some space between Ali's back and her own body, try to calm down so Ali won't notice the way her body heat is soaring.

It's a surprise when Ali's fingers creep under her bra in an empty classroom she's dragged Emily into. It's a surprise when Ali takes her top off before jumping in the water with Emily.

Ali lets her look, cocky, distracting her from her warm-up, and then she gets bored — or times it to catch Emily at her most embarrassingly turned on and desperate — and backs Emily against the nearest vertical surface. She tugs Emily's bathing suit down over her shoulders, teasing but without as much confidence as usual, somehow, and Emily finds herself not only feeling, watching Ali's skin shiver under her touch, but also getting chills from the way Ali pinches and tweaks with none of Emily's uncertainty, none of her personal interest, and then grasps Emily's hips loosely. Her thumbs rub over Emily's hipbones, soothing, and she sucks one of Emily's nipples into her mouth.

It's — it's definitely a surprise, everything, what Ali's doing, the way her entire body feels like it's on fire, reacting so wildly to something so small — Ali's teeth grazing her skin, nothing at all — something that shouldn't feel as overwhelming as it does.

Emily's never had an orgasm before — she's never even tried — but she _knows_ that's what it is when she feels something unravel deep in her stomach, these vibrating waves that start off with a tight focus, contained between her legs, and then wash over her until she feels shaky and dazed, somehow clear-headed enough to be mortified but incapable of caring, not because it's unavoidable — and she often feels that when she's alone with Alison, when she's exposed to her continued attention: this unavoidable, paralyzing shame under the currents of need that keep her grounded in place — but because it doesn't seem to matter. It's hard enough to keep herself afloat as it is, and Ali — who knows so much more about Emily than Emily knows about her — is helping her stay upright, so it really shouldn't be.

What it should be, Emily thinks, is enough.

It's still not.

It's not enough to get a trail of kisses that begin to fizzle out before they begin to be, and it's not enough to walk back home with Ali standing close enough to be friendly and far enough so not even their arms will brush, talking about anything but what she just did to Emily.

It's not enough. It can't ever be.

But Emily never pulls back or says no, because those small, contextless things, those glimpses at what it could be like to date Ali, to have a girlfriend, those breadcrumbs Ali offers her — they don't feel like a consolation prize or the worst arrangement in the world when Emily's taking them. When Emily's taking them, they feel like the best part.


End file.
